The Agreement
by M.R.McCloskey
Summary: While John was trying to keep Sherlock out of harms way during 'The Reichenbach Fall', Mycroft made is own arrangement. How Sherlock survived. Probably a one-shot.
1. Chapter 1

**Katherine screamed** as the vervain mist made contact with her eyes and the surround skin. She felt a hand grab her hair and use it to pull her head up. As her eyes healed, she heard the emotionless voice from again.

"I'm giving you a good offer, Miss Pierce. But my patience is beginning to run thin."

Katherine panted and stayed silent. Another hand grabbed her nose, forcing her to inhale the mist. She tried to scream, but as the mist burned her throat and lungs, it became a wet gurgle. The voice let out an impatient sigh.

"I'm sorry we couldn't reach an understanding, Miss pierce," He cleared his throat and addressed the three men surrounding Katherine's chair.

"Stake her."

Katherine bucked in the chair, pulling at the chains that bound her wrists and ankles.

"No!" Katherine screamed a loud as her still raw throat would allow.

The voice was silent for a moment, considering.

"Will you listen to my terms?"

"Yes, whatever you want!"

Mycroft Holmes smiled coldly.

"Well, it's about my brother, see…."


	2. Trust

Sherlock stood looking out his window at the humid London day. Suddenly, he turned around, grabbed an empty mug from the edge of the cluttered desk that was to his left, and whipped it across the room. It shattered into large shards, but Sherlock found no satisfaction in it.

To almost any person who had been watching, this sudden outburst would have been taken as anger. But no, this was much, much worse: Sherlock Holmes was bored.

The consulting detective turned back to the window in a huff. John was gone for the day, so he was alone in the flat.

KNOCK KNOCK KNOCK

Well, almost alone.

"Sherlock? Sherlock, I know you're in there!" Miss Hudson's muffled voice called through the door. Sherlock moaned. As bored as he was he was, he was definitely in no mood for Miss Hudson's company.

"Go away Miss Hudson!"

"Sherlock, there's someone I'd like you to meet," Miss Hudson continued as if Sherlock hadn't spoken.

At the thought of a new person, Sherlock bolted to the door and opened it as quickly as he could. He flung the door open with such force that its hinges squeaked and it almost shut again, earning him a harsh glare from Miss Hudson. But, Sherlock didn't care. He had all of his attention trained on the young woman standing beside his landlady.

Miss Hudson wasted no time.

"Sherlock Holmes, meet Katherine Pierce."

Katherine smiled kindly before extending her hand toward Sherlock, who grabbed it and brought the palm inches away from his face, staring at it intently. After about 3 minutes, Katherine spoke.

"See anything interesting?"

Sherlock quickly took a mental note of her American accent, before ignoring her question and asking one of his own.

"Miss Hudson, where did you meet this woman?"

"Oh, I knew her grandmother, Adeline, god bless her soul. Katherine is in town for a short visit, and I said that I'd let her stay in 221C. "

Sherlock let go of Katherine's' hand.

"No, she can't do that."

Miss Hudson crossed her arms.

"Oh, and why not."

"I can't read her. It's not safe."

Miss Hudson rolled her eyes.

"Come along dear," She said to Katherine, who'd been calmly watching the exchange, "Lets get you settled in."

Miss Hudson began to walk toward the stairs.

Katherine turned back to Sherlock. "It was nice meeting you Mr. Holmes." And with a smile, she turned to follow Miss Hudson.

Sherlock turned and stalked back into his apartment, quietly seething.

"Can't trust her," Sherlock informed the yellow spray-painted smiley face on his wall.

When the face didn't do anything, Sherlock flopped onto the couch, closing his eyes.

A face, smiling with mad glee, flickered behind Sherlock's eyelids.

Moriarty.

The consulting detective opened his eyes again, looking back up at the yellow smile.

"Can't trust anyone."


	3. What You Do Best

The room was dark, cramped and cold. Katherine squirmed in her seat, testing the ankle and wrist restraints. They weren't vervained this time, thankfully.

Suddenly, the room was filled with light. Katherine hissed in annoyance, blinking.

"Your grandmother's name was Adeline?"

Mycroft entered the windowless room, a smug smile on his face. Katherine glared at him as he took the much more inviting chair across from her.

"I'm beginning to really dislike you."

Mycroft _tsked _her.

"Dislike is a fairly strong word, Miss Pierce."

Katherine snorted.

"No, 'fuck' is a fairly strong word. Dislike is an emotion I normally feel towards people whose hearts I'm about to rip out."

"You're going to rip my heart out?"

"If you keep kidnapping me like this, yes. Next time, drop around my flat."

Mycroft rolled his eyes.

"And give my brother a chance to use that harpoon gun he's so proud about; not likely."

Katherine shrugged.

"I've seen it; it's really not that scary."

Mycroft raised his eyebrows.

"To each their own, I suppose. Now, Adeline. Not a Bulgarian name, is it?"

Katherine huffed.

"I don't know. She died of fever before I was born. Why do you care?"

"Because my brother can tell if you're lying, even in the slightest sense."

"I've been watching him for a week now, and we've hardly talked. When we do all he does is start to stare at my forehead. Then he just leaves, saying he can't read me," Katherine tested the straps again.

When they didn't budge, she looked back to Mycroft.

"What does he mean, he can't 'read me'?"

Mycroft nodded slightly. "Ah, yes, I was wondering when we'd get to that. You see, Sherlock has a very keen observational eye. He can deduct facts about a person's life by examining and identifying little details you and I would never see or think to look for. In your case, Miss Pierce, I'm assuming he can't read you because his mind can only deduct what he can understand. The supernatural is not one of those things."

Katherine raised her eyebrows. "Oh, that's hot. Now,"

She looked pointedly at the straps. Mycroft sighed and carefully reached over to undo the strap on her right wrist. Katherine set to work freeing herself.

Rubbing her bruised and healing wrists, Katherine looked at the eldest Holmes brother.

"Why did bring my here, Mycroft?"

Mycroft narrowed his eyes slightly.

"You need to get closer to him, Miss Pierce. You cannot protect him from Jim Moriarty by simply watching. You must befriend him."

Katherine snorted and stood up, stretching her legs. "How?"

Mycroft stood up, walking toward the door.

"You'll find a way, Miss Pierce. Getting close to people is what you do best, is it not?"

Katherine glared at him. "Survival is what I do best, thank you very fucking much."

Mycroft chuckled.

"Maybe that sense of self-preservation will rub off on my brother. There's a science museum opening downtown. Ask him to go with you. I'm sure he'll jump at the chance to learn more about you."

Mycroft had one foot out the door when Katherine called out.

"Mycroft."

The older man stopped, listening. Katherine stepped towards him.

"If this goes bad, I want you to know that I always put myself first. Always. So if it comes down to it, I'll save myself, not him."

Mycroft didn't say anything for a moment. Then, so softly Katherine could only hear it with her heightened senses, he replied.

"We'll see about that in the end, Katherine."

Then he was gone. The door shut with a heavy '_thud_'.

Katherine stood silently for a moment. Then she laughed.

"I'll paint the walls with your blood, Mycroft Holmes," She vowed to the door.

"Just wait."


	4. Dumb Ways To Die

The museum was noisy and cramped.

Sherlock Holmes was just short of running around like a child in a candy store, looking at _every_ exhibit in turn, examining them carefully before scampering off to the next one. He seemed to be enjoying himself.

Katherine, on the other hand, was not.

If fact, she was bored out of her mind. None of this was really new to her, considering that she had been there for the first unveilings of a majority of the exhibits. Science had never been a priority for her, but she knew more about it than most gave her credit for. She wasn't stupid; she recognized that science was the future.

And the key to staying alive long enough to see said future was to know and expect what would come with it.

She wasn't completely the materialistic bitch Damon had her painted as after all.

Katherine sharply shook her head.

Slightly disgusted at the thoughts of Damon invading her mind, she walked over to a large blown-up photograph of a man with a thin mustache and the slightest hint of a smile on his lips.

"Nikola Tesla." Sherlock said as he stepped beside her.

"I know." Katherine told him, turning her head to look at him.

She felt her annoyance levels rise to what she liked to call the *DANGER ZONE* as the consulting detectives' eyes zero in on her forehead.

"Stop doing that!" Katherine snapped.

"Stop doing what?" Sherlock teased, keeping his gaze locked on her forehead.

"You know what! What do you even think you're going to see?"

Sherlock shrugged. Katherine growled silently.

"Nothing has changed since the last time you looked!"

The detective blinked in surprise, his startlingly blue eyes meeting her brown ones for the first time…._ever_, Katherine realized.

"That's exactly right….." Sherlock mumbled, narrowing his eyes.

"What's exactly right?" Katherine asked, suddenly lost.

Was he agreeing with her?

"Nothing has changed….." Sherlock continued.

He was!

Katherine suddenly felt slightly worried. Had he been drugged or something when she wasn't looking?

His face turned so thoughtful that Katherine was starting to fear for her own safety, too.

_Great, _Katherine thought dryly.

_He's going to die from a self-induced aneurism and Mycroft is still going to try and kill me. _

The thought of Sherlock most powerful and reliable weapon, his mind, being the thing that killed him struck Katherine as morbidly funny.

Clearing her throat, Katherine tried to change the subject.

"So…. What do you know about Nikola Tesla?" She asked, jerking her thumb toward the photo.

Sherlock blinked and straightened up, adjusting his scarf.

"Nikola Tesla, inventor, electrical engineer, mechanical engineer, physicist and futurist. Best known for his contributions to the design to the of today's alternating electrical supply system,"

Katherine raised her eyebrows as Sherlock continued.

"Born on July tenth, eighteen fifty-six in what is no modern day Croatia, Tesla died alone, impoverished and in debt in room 3327 of the New York Hotel on January seventh, nineteen forty-three at eighty-six years old."

Katherine shook her head in reluctant awe and looked back at the picture.

"Stupid way to die," She told Sherlock.

"Yes," He agreed. "But there are worse ways. Like Iranian torture; that is actually quite painful."

Katherine laughed.

"Yeah, I'll bet,"

"What about you?" Sherlock asked.

"Do you have any dumb ways to die that you'd like to share?"

Katherine thought for a moment.

"Self-sacrifice," She said slowly.

"What do you mean by that?"

"Dying for love," Katherine said her mind suddenly one hundred and forty-eight years in the past.

"I once heard a story about these two brothers who fell in love with the same girl-"

"What no vampires or werewolves?" Sherlock asked, joking.

Katherine laughed, a little uneasy.

"No werewolves, no," She told him shrugging. "Do you want to hear the story, or what?"

Sherlock nodded once. "Please continue."

Katherine took a deep breath, looking back at the memory.

"Where was I? Oh yes, two brothers, one girl. Everything was well and good until one day; the brother's father had the girl arrested. I can't remember why, but I'm sure it was something stupid. Anyway, the brothers banded together to save the girl they loved."

"What happened?"

"They died," Katherine blinked, bringing herself back to the present.

"In the end, love is no mach for a gun."

Sherlock thought over the story for a moment. Finally, he looked back over at her.

"Are you hungry?" He asked, already moving toward the doors.

"Uh, just a little thirsty." Katherine admitted truthfully, walking beside him.

"Good, because I saw a Chinese place down the block. Early dinner."

Katherine looked down at her watch.

"It's Three thirty in the afternoon."

Sherlock shrugged, pushing the doors open and stepping into the cool London day.

"Yes, well, that's why it's an early dinner then."

Katherine shrugged, seeing no point in arguing. They walked in silence for a few moments.

"She could've stopped it." Sherlock said suddenly. Seeing the confused look on her face, he clarified:

"The girl in your story. She could've saved at least one of the brothers."

Katherine stopped walking.

"How?"

Sherlock stopped walking and turned to face her.

"All she had to do was choose."

Katherine shook her head.

"But then the one she didn't choose would've hated her."

"But at least he'd have lived. Love kills, as has been proven time and time again."

Sherlock continued walking.

Katherine rushed to catch up with him.

"Have you ever been in love?"

Sherlock kept walking.

They continued on in silence until they reached the restaurant doors.

Sherlock opened the doors for her. Sherlock turned his head to look out at the London street.

_Good-bye Mr. Holmes._

"Caring is not an advantage." He told the memory before following Katherine into the restaurant.

_James Moriarty watched Sherlock walked into the restaurant. _

_The consulting criminal felt an odd, yet not uncommon feeling stir inside him._

_Jealousy._

_It was bad enough that he had to compete with John, but a girl just wasn't acceptable._

_"So many ways to die in London town, honey," He sang to himself. _

_"We just need to find you the right one."_

_But not just yet. No, it wasn't time yet._

_The fall was only just beginning._

**_But don't worry_**_, he told himself against the wave of frustration and morbid disappointment._

**_She'll be gone before Sherlock hits the ground. _**


	5. The Monster

Slowly, Sherlock opened his eyes.

The room was dark except for the glowing red digits on the alarm clock.

For a moment, Sherlock thought he was in his own room.

_But the numbers on my alarm clock are green. _

_No, wait, that's Johns' clock. Do I even have a digital clock in my room?_

What was wrong with him? He couldn't think straight.

The numbers on the alarm clock suddenly registered in his mind.

11:30 p.m.

_What the hell… _He had hardly formed the thought when a new one broke through,

_This is not my room._

Sherlock snapped up into a sitting position, then immediately regretted it as a wave of nausea hit. Taking a deep breathe, Sherlock called out.

"Hello?"

From across the room, a light went on.

The sudden bright made Sherlock close his eyes in pain and brought on a whole new feeling of helplessness.

From its spot on the couch, the monster smiled at him.

"Good, you're awake," It said.

"I was starting to get worried."

Sherlock slowly put his feet on the floor.

"Oh, don't try to get up," The monster warned.

"Why not?" Sherlock asked feeling slightly annoyed at the entire situation.

"You've lost a lot of blood." The monster informed him.

_Blood…_

Sherlock hand went to his neck, searching for any puncture marks.

"Did you…."

The monster looked confused for a moment, and then it seemed to understand.

"Don't be stupid, of course I didn't bite you!"

The monster stood up and slowly began to walk toward him.

_I should've seen it, _Sherlock told himself. _But it's impossible._

The monster was now right in front of him. It knelt down until their gazes were level.  
"Sherlock," It said to him softly, as if not to frighten him.

"What do you remember?"

Sherlock was silent for a moment before answering.

"Everything," He said in a whispered voice.

Then ignoring the dizziness and nausea, he grabbed the pencil off the bedside table and lunged.

_EARLIER THAT DAY_

"JOHN!" Sherlock yelled, pounding on the bathroom door.

After a few loud curse words, Sherlock heard the water turn off.

"Damn it Sherlock! I am IN THE SHOWER!" John yelled at him through the door.

Sherlock rolled his eyes.

"As if I don't know that! Get out!"

"Sherlock, we talked about this; you need to wait your turn. You can take a shower-"

"No," Sherlock sighed, frustrated. "That's not it. We have a case!"

The door opened and John stepped out in his robe.

"I can't go Sherlock." John told him.

Sherlock scrunched up his nose.

"Why are you saying that like I know what you're talking about?"

John slumped his shoulders, walking to the kitchen.

"Because I told you that I have an interview today."

"Interview for what?" Sherlock asked, following him.

"Are you doing this on purpose?" John snapped at him.

"Maybe, but first you need to tell me what I'm doing."

"Playing dumb, Sherlock. That's what you're doing." John told his flat mate while pouring himself a glass of milk.

Sherlock shook his head.

"No. I'm never dumb, just uninformed."

John sighed, utterly defeated.

"I'm interviewing for a job today,"

Sherlock snorted.

"That's stupid. You already have a job."

"A _paying_ job, Sherlock." John drained the glass and put in the sink.

"Alright, but if you're doing that, who's going to assist me?"

"Are you ready to go yet?" Sherlock called from the front door, annoyed.

"Yes, Sherlock," Katherine told the taller man, tying her scarf around her neck.

"What takes women so long? All John ever does is put his coat on and he's ready to go."

Katherine shrugged at him as she hailed them a cab.

"Maybe women just want to impress." She told him, letting him get in first.

"Impress who?"

Katherine smiled and waved flintily at a couple of men walking past before getting into the cab and closing the door.

"Everybody."

Sherlock gave the cab driver the address and leaned back in the seat, closing his eyes.

It had been three days since they had gone to the science museum, and they hadn't talked much since.

It still bothered him that he couldn't read much about her, and whatever little he could just didn't add up.

But in the end, Sherlock decided he liked her, though he didn't trust her.

"Sherlock, what day is it?"

"Thursday," He answered. "Why?"

"Oh, my cell phone date and time says 'Wednesday, 7:46pm'."

Sherlock grabbed her left hand and lifted it up to look at her watch.

"It's only 9:30 a.m. now." He told her.

"Yes, I know."

Sherlock shrugged, dropping her hand.

"Strange," He told her, looking back out his window.

They sat in awkward silence for a moment before Katherine cleared her throat.

"So…. Are we going to a crime scene?" She asked.

"Yes. A body was found in an alley way-"

"Oh, that doesn't sound so strange," Katherine interrupted him.

"With its head ripped off." Sherlock finished.

Katherine wrinkled her nose.

"Oh, that's charming," She turned her head looked out her window.

The cab pulled up next to a busy side walk.

Katherine opened the door and got out while Sherlock paid the driver.

"Is this it?" She asked him when he got out.

"No," He admitted, watching the cab drive away.

"It's about a block away. I just thought it might be simpler to walk there considering the fact that there are going to be a lot more police than usual." Sherlock informed, already walking down the side walk.

Katherine nodded, keeping pace beside him.

"Alright, I guess that makes sense. But for our next date, I'm expecting to be driven directly to the location."

Katherine laughed when Sherlock tripped in surprise.

"This is not a date," He said fiercely.

"I know. I was just joking." Katherine told him, still smiling.

"Good. Besides; you're not my type,"

Katherine laughed again.

"Yeah, I know. From what I've been told your _type _tends to strip naked when they answer the door."

Sherlock stopped walking, shocked.

"John told you about her?"

Katherine shrugged. "I was in your flat with John the other day and I saw some interesting photographs, so he gave me a brief explanation."

Sherlock narrowed his eyes.

"What else did John tell you?"

"He said that you loved her. I can understand why; Irene Adler is very beautiful."

Sherlock didn't say anything for a moment. Then he started walking again.

"Come on. I'd like to see this crime scene."

He'd been right. There were police everywhere.

Katherine stuck close to Sherlock's side, though she could sense the unease radiating from him. He hadn't been truly upset until she'd said her name, _Irene Adler._

She could relate to that; her past relationships weren't something she liked to linger on, ether.

"About time you got here, freak." A sour voice pulled Katherine out of her thoughts.

She looked past Sherlock's shoulder in time to see a tall dark haired man moving toward them.

"Where's John?" The man said when he reached them, his face already twisted into a scowl.

"Oh, Dr. Watson had a prior arrangement. Why the sudden concern, Anderson?"

The man, Anderson, snorted.

"It's not 'sudden'. I've been concerned about him the moment he decided to move in with a lunatic like you."

Katherine felt her annoyance level flare up upon seeing that Sherlock was just content letting Anderson verbally abuse him.

"If he's such a lunatic, why do you need him to solve this case?" She asked, stepping in front of Sherlock, head cocked to the side and hand on her hips.

Her battle stance.

Anderson raised an eyebrow.

"Really, Sherlock? Now you're bringing your girlfriends to crime scenes?"

Sherlock narrowed his eyes.

"She's not my girlfriend."

Anderson rolled his eyes and looked back to Katherine.

"This is no place for little girls, so why don't you run back to your mother."

Katherine smiled menacingly.

"I would, but she was brutally murdered. My father, too."

Anderson opened his mouth, and then closed it again, at a loss for words.  
"Besides," Katherine continued. "Blood doesn't bother me."

"Blood won't be an issue; there is none." Said a new voice from behind Anderson.

A man stepped into view, and from the sense of authority he oozed, Katherine guessed that he was in charged.

Sherlock furrowed his brow.

"What do you mean there's no blood? I was told the head had been ripped off."

"That's exactly it; the head is off but there is almost no blood at the scene, and the body is drained."

_Why does that sound familiar?_ Katherine thought to herself.

"Let me see the body," Katherine ordered the man.

"Not unless you have some I.D-" The man started, but stopped when he met her eyes.

"Let me see the body." Katherine said again, letting the compulsion take effect.

The man blinked, and then nodded.

"Come on, then," He told her and Sherlock.

"Lead the way." Katherine told him, ignoring Sherlock's confused gaze.

A chalk white body, its head about a foot away, frozen in a silent scream.

The scene looked so familiar that Katherine had to take a step back.

An entire village had looked like this at one time, ripped apart.

_A ripper?_

It seemed like the only explanation. But they were rare. Katherine was over 500 years old and she had only every seen one.

_And I created it…_A voice in the back of her mind reminded her, but she ignored it. What Stefan had become had nothing to do with her.

A new thought entered Katherine's mind.

_What's a ripper doing in modern day London?_

Not listening to Sherlock or what any of the others were saying to each other, Katherine walked up to the body and took in a deep breath through her nose.

_Ammonia? _

She sniffed again.

Yep, it was ammonia all right. Someone was using it to cover their scent. That confirmed it for Katherine.

_A vampire did this._

Katherine walked back over to Sherlock and the rest.

"It's a copycat killer." Sherlock snapped at a darker skinned woman.

The woman rolled her eyes.

"Who are they copying, Sherlock? I've never heard of a murder like this."

"I have," Katherine said, causing everybody to look at her intently.

"The Ripper of Monterrey. He was responsible for the massacre of an entire village in 1917. Only, he ripped his victims apart and put then back together,"

She pointed at the body.

"Who ever did this had no intention of making such a show of remorse."

When nobody said anything, Katherine narrowed her eyes.

"What?" She snapped.

"Uh, did you notice anything else?" The man, whose name she now knew was Lestraude.

"Yes, actually; the body reeks of ammonia."

Sherlock raised his eyebrows.

"Ammonia?" He mulled over the information briefly, then he looked at Katherine again.

"What time is it?"

"Time for you to get a watch," She told him as she pulled her jacket sleeve so she could see her watch.

"11:15," Katherine told him, surprised.

Two hours had passed? She must've been looking at the body longer than she thought.

Sherlock nodded.

"Are you hungry? I know this great place a couple blocks away that-"

The woman looked at him in disgust.

"How you can really eat after seeing this?"

Sherlock shrugged.

"Well, Donovan, I suppose it may have something to do with me being a lunatic."

He told her as he began to walk away.

Katherine started to go after him when Donovan stopped her by grabbing her arm.

"Be careful; trouble follows that man."

_That's why I'm here. _Katherine thought.

Sharply pulling her arm out of the taller woman's hold, Katherine rushed to catch up with Sherlock.

_Trouble, here I come_.


End file.
